Foolish Pride
by Saitaina R. Moricia
Summary: Harry and Draco are two very stubborn men, who run the risk of losing everything...


Harry was curled up in the window seat, his cheek pressed against the glass as he watched the street below, tears sliding down his cheeks in a slow procession, falling onto his damp shirt collar. He sniffed and glanced at the phone before turning back to the street, rubbing a hand across his cheek.

* * *

"Why can't you wash a fucking dish in this house?" Harry yelled, slamming a plate on the counter, shattering it.  
  
"Because you're the one who does the fucking cooking." Draco yelled back, pushing in a chair, banging it against the table.  
  
Harry slammed another dish down and turned to look at his lover, anger tinting his cheeks pink. "And you eat it. Your arms aren't broken, Dray. You can wash a bloody dish."  
  
"That's. Your. Job. Not mine. Someone here has to make money."  
  
Harry stilled, stairing at Draco, too angry to speak, a fine trembling starting in his body. "I'm not a fucking housewife," he whispered.  
  
"You act like it! Moping around, watching cheesy soap operas till I get home where you annoy the hell out of me just because you're bored!"  
  
"I wouldn't be bored if it didn't' feel like I was the only one living here!"  
  
"I'm so TIRED of this argument!"  
  
A chair flew across the room, smashing itself into the wall. "Then maybe you should stop starting it!"  
  
Draco ignored the vase of roses that went whizzing past his face. "I didn't start this, you did!"  
  
"Bullshit!"

* * *

Draco ran his hand through his hair, pulling a shard of pottery from the blond strands before falling back on the bed. He refused to let the tears blurring his vision to fall. His emotions raged, and they sent the objects in the room floating around him, banging into walls and window as he battled with himself.  
  
"Fucking hell," he whispered, covering his face with his hands. He sat up, catching a candle stick from the air before it smashed into his skull, setting it on the night table. His hand hovered for a moment, eyes resting on the phone next to the clock. He bit his lip before turning away, throwing a pillow hard across the room, knocking a figurine from the dresser.

* * *

Draco practically ran upstairs, the doors to his wardrobe slamming open as he entered the bedroom. He could hear steps following his and he growled, brandishing his wand at his clothes, sending them soaring towards his trunk.  
  
"Oh yes, just run off as usual. God, Malfoy, you can't even stick around and fight."  
  
"WHY would I want to stick around, Potter? I'm getting rather sick of hearing the tone of your voice and since you never shut it.."  
  
Harry threw a stuffed animal at Draco, his anger getting the better of him. Draco hissed as the sharp point of a piece of plastic on the animal cut his cheek and he whirled around, stairing at Harry before fling the animal back at him, shoving his broom into the trunk. "I've had it. I really have. All you ever do is whine, bitch and accuse me of shit. There is so much wrong with your head I don't even know where to begin." He grabbed his cloak and waved his wand again, levitating his trunk. "You're seriously fucked up, Harry." he said before leaving the room.

* * *

Harry pulled the quilt closer to him, absently running his fingers over the embroidered dragon, sniffling as he watched the rain slide slowly down the window.  
  
The phone lay in front of him, and every so often he'd reach out, dialing a few digits before slamming it back down, emotions warring inside him, tearing him apart.  
  
Hedwig had come over, a blank piece of parchment clutched in her beak, but he pushed her away, tearing the parchment to little pieces. Hedwig had bit him hard on his hand before flying out the open bedroom window.  
  
Harry sniffed again and closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall, exhausted, worn thin, and quite miserable.

* * *

"I'm fucked up?! I'm not the one who wonders around in a drug and alcohol induced fantasy land! You can't drown your demons, Malfoy!"  
  
"At least I get some piece and quiet when I'm passed out." Draco muttered, searching for a bit of Floo Powder. Harry grabbed his arm and Draco jerked away, glaring at him. "Do. Not. Touch. Me."  
  
"Don't want to more then I have to, but you're not just Flooing away from me!"  
  
"Watch me, but wait, you can't see anything can you? Even when it's right in front of those stupid glasses!"  
  
Harry grabbed the jar of Floo and threw it out the window, scattering the granules on the wind. Draco gaped after the jar before heading for the door, his trunk bobbing along after. He paused in the entry hall and grabbed Harry's car keys, opening the front door.  
  
"YOU CAN'T WALK AWAY FROM THIS!"  
  
"Too late, Potter." Draco said, the door slamming behind him.  
  
Harry sunk to the ground, stairing at the door his lover had just walked through.

* * *

Draco curled on the bed, clutching a silvery, velvet cloak to him, his tears soaking into the fabric. He sniffed and stared at the phone in front of him before suddenly flipping over, stairing at the blank wall, trying to ignore thoughts of angry emerald eyes or flying vases.  
  
Hermione watched her guest from the doorway, a tear sliding down her cheek as she flicked her wand, torn bits of moving picture floating to the rubbish bin she held. She wiped the tear as she looked down at dozen bits of the smiling face of her best friend. She pulled a twisted, broken ring from the paper and ran a finger over the melted metal, sighing as she made out the engraved promises.  
  
_**Turn out the lights the competition's over   
**__**The stubborn souls are the losers here tonight   
And while the bridges burn, another hard-hard lesson's learned  
As through the ashes passion slowly  
Chalk another love lost up to foolish pride** _


End file.
